Dark Witch
by holly bergman
Summary: Snape wasn't the only one who Dumbledore gave a second chance. Dumbledore's right hand woman has a secret and now is the time to tell it. The Dark origins of Minerva McGonagall... headmistress, Order Member and former Dark Witch.
1. Knockturn Alley

**IMPORTANT NOTICE! READ THIS BEFORE YOU READ MY STORY!**

_This story is a historical fiction set during World War Two. It makes a lot of references to actual events and places. The line between fiction and fact is very blurred and I have even made characters out of real people. _

_I do not wish to make anyone angry or upset so...**if you find this kind of story upsetting, please don't read it.**_

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Author's Note: **REVIEW MY STORY AND I REVIEW YOURS **unless it is slash. How much more of an incentive to you need!?! If you don't have a story…just humour me, will you. Please? Cummon! Press the pretty button! It's a on at the bottom that is smiling at you right now:-)

Secondly, McGonagall is completely OOC in manner of Bellatrix for half the fic.

Thirdly…enjoy!

Fourthy… When in doubt, see first point.

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter Universe that I dwell in belongs to…drum roll and trumpets…Joanne Rowling! applause and cheering

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Knockturn Alley

The rain always seemed to fall down harder in this part of Knockturn Alley. Minerva McGonagall paused to observe her surroundings. It had been a very long time since she had come here. No one was likely to recognise the aging headmistress yet. Her emerald green cloak concealed her face. She steeled herself, stepped over the drunken wizard on the muddy ground before her and knocked at the old wooden door. The old, gaunt wizard, who ran the bar McGonagall was intent upon entering, opened the door and muttered something about the pub being full. McGonagall lowered her emerald green hood and revealed herself. The bartender turned the colour of chalk in a matter of seconds.

"Y-you!" cried the bartender.

McGonagall was rather surprised that the old man recognised her immediately after all these years but she decided to pretend that she hadn't changed a bit, even though she had completely changed since she had last encountered this man. He was less likely to argue with her. Hopefully he hadn't looked at the article in the Daily Prophet that announced her as the new headmistress.

"Miss me?" she asked in an arrogant tone none of her students would ever hear her use. "Do let me in. It's rather chilly out here."

"B-but…we thought you w-were dead and-"

"Disappointed?" she drawled.

She pulled her hood back up, entered without invitation and took a seat at the bar. It certainly wasn't full but there were quite a few people McGonagall could associate with the Death Eaters. Even though McGonagall wanted to jinx the lot of them and drag their sorry carcasses back to the Ministry of Magic, that wasn't why she was here. None of them even bothered looking up at her. The bar was poorly lit and grubby but McGonagall found who she was looking for surprisingly quickly. Sitting there was a man she knew very well…or at least as well as most people could possibly know him. He had certainly looked better when McGonagall had last seen him. His greasy hair had grown past his shoulders and his pallid face was unshaven. She got up and walked over to him.

"Severus," she said quietly.

Severus Snape instantly drew his wand but McGonagall was too quick for him. Snape's wand flew into the air and McGonagall caught it. Her own wand was pointed straight at him. The bartender had decided to eavesdrop behind the counter and he did not look the least bit surprised to see an old lady disarm a Death Eater so effortlessly. She tossed a bottle of clear liquid to Snape, Veritaserum. Snape had a shrewd feeling that he was the one who had brewed the potion.

"Drink it," McGonagall whispered, "or I will persuade you to drink it."

"I think you'll have to persuade me," snarled Snape.

McGonagall raised her wand a little higher and jabbed Snape in the throat with it. He didn't even flinch.

"Did you know that you are the only man the Ministry has made it perfectly legal to cast an unforgivable curse against?" said McGonagall.

"You couldn't cast an unforgivable curse if the Dark Lord gave you personal lessons," sneered Snape.

The bartender stared at Snape in disbelief.

_Did he know who he was talking to?_

McGonagall pushed her wand into Snape's throat a little harder. Snape's confidence dropped a notch.

"Don't be so sure," she said quietly. "Drink it."

Snape glared at McGonagall before uncorking the bottle and finishing it in one go. He had definitely brewed this potion; he knew the taste. Snape never liked being beaten with his own tricks. McGonagall lowered her wand…slightly.

"You haven't stored that bottle correctly," said Snape silkily. "It's too warm. You only have about five minutes."

"Don't start," snarled McGonagall.

McGonagall looked around and made sure the rest of the people in the bar were still oblivious to the drama. Judging from the vacant expressions they were. She turned to the bartender.

"Is the room behind the cellar still empty?" asked McGonagall.

"Would you care if it wasn't?" said the bartender who had apparently got over his initial shock and had now turned to bitterness. "Rent is still five sickles a night."

McGonagall gave him the stern look she usually reserved for the Weasley twins and left five sickles on the counter. She led Snape, her wand pointed at his back, out of sight. The bartender raised his eyebrows and pocketed the money.

"She actually paid this time," he mumbled. "That's a first."

The little room could hardly be called a room. There was no furniture and one little candle levitating over head. A rat scurried out of the room when the headmistress and the ex-potions master walked inside. McGonagall conjured a stool out of thin air.

"Sit," she said sharply.

Snape sat, leaning back against the wall. McGonagall leant against the opposite wall and glared at him. Her wand was not pointed at him but it was in her hand and ready for use.

"Potter told us a rather interesting tale," she said. "I think you have read about it in the paper."

"Ask your questions and stop wasting my time," snarled Snape.

McGonagall's eyes never left his.

"Why did Albus believe you were a spy?" asked McGonagall, her voice quivering with anger.

Snape was trying hard to fight the Veritaserum but he had made it himself. A bead of sweat ran down his forehead and he was trembling. He did not expect McGonagall to start with that question. He'd expected something more along the lines of 'why did you do it?' McGonagall was trying to catch him off guard and she had done that very well.

"I told him the truth…" mumbled Snape.

"And what was that?" asked McGonagall impatiently.

Snape fought harder.

"…Prophecy…"

McGonagall's heart skipped a few beats.

"…I heard it…"

"Are you the Death Eater who told Voldemort about it?"

"…Yes…he went after…the Potters…so I went to Dumbledore…"

McGonagall suddenly strode towards Snape, seized him by the scruff of his robes and slammed him into the wall. Her other hand still had her wand and it was trained at Snape again. Snape had never seen McGonagall this angry.

"Why did you even care?" shouted McGonagall. "You hated the Potters! You still do!"

"James Potter may have been an arrogant idiot… his friend may have been a cowardly bastard… and his son… may be just as bad…but Lily was not…"

For one moment, McGonagall almost believed Snape. She remembered Lily and Severus at school, brewing potions together. It was the reason James fought with him so much. But then she remembered what he had done to the man who had been like a father to her.

"You murdered the man I trusted most in the world! Why?" she shouted.

Snape knocked McGonagall's hand off his robes and shouted at her. He stopped fighting the Veritaserum. His voice was no longer strained but loud and angry.

"He ordered me to do it!"

It took a few minutes, maybe more, for that statement to make any affect on McGonagall. She stood before Snape, her wand still trained at his head, without moving an inch. She slowly lowered her wand, her face a mask of grief.

"Why?" she whispered.

Snape and McGonagall were both shaking now. Snape was struggling to control his voice from rising again.

"To find out what Draco Malfoy was ordered to do by the Dark Lord, I made the Unbreakable Vow with his mother. I would do his task for him," whispered Snape. "I couldn't…think of any other way to get the information and Dumbledore said to use any means necessary. Later that year…I overheard Draco talking to Moaning Myrtle about his task and…I knew what he had to do."

McGonagall leaned against the wall as Snape spoke. Everything Dumbledore had done in the previous year made sense. McGonagall though he was just a little worried when he spoke to her about leading the Order and being a good headmistress. Snape continued to speak. Though his face was still impassive, Snape was still shaking and he couldn't hide the grief in his voice. No amount of Occlumency could do that anymore.

"He tried to save the Malfoys," said Snape. "He even wanted to turn Bellatrix to the right side. I was sceptical when it came to Bellatrix especially but Dumbledore said it could be done."

"Bellatrix Lestange?" snarled McGonagall.

"You have to give her some credit for her boundless loyalty," said Snape with a shrug. "She's undeniably insane but Dumbledore seemed to think she could be brought to our side with some…what were the words Dumbledore used? Ah…positive influences."

McGonagall twitched and turned pale when she heard this. Snape frowned and looked at her questioningly but she gave no explanation for her behaviour.

"Dumbledore wanted to make sure that Draco didn't commit murder…but I had made the Unbreakable Vow," Snape let a small laugh, though there was little humor in the situation. "When I told him that I wasn't going though with it the old idiot told me that I had failed to save him when his had was injured and that he was dying. I found out afterwards that he had lied. I suppose being in the company of a spy like me wasn't too good for him."

"Don't call him that," muttered McGonagall.

"Why not?" snarled Snape. "I was the spy. I was the one who was supposed to lie. Not him."

There was a ringing silence. The Potions Master and the Headmistress were unable to look at each other.

"Severus…" said McGonagall after a short while. "You do know what happened to the Malfoys, don't you?"

"Yes," answered Snape tonelessly "The Dark Lord killed Narcissa and Draco and Lucius hung himself in his cell when he heard about it. Bellatrix and I both tried to take the blame for Draco failure…the only time I think we've ever really worked together. The Dark Lord found our excuses…unsatisfactory. Why do you think I'm here, drinking cheap firewhiskey that was brewed a little better than Longbottom's forgetfulness potion?"

Unable to say any words of comfort…or any words connected to Dumbledore, McGonagall spoke after a few moments.

"Do you really think the drinks here are that bad?" asked McGonagall quietly, deciding not to scold Snape for insulting her students.

"Either that or I lost my sense of taste at some point," said Snape sardonically.

McGonagall snorted. The drinks here were certainly nothing to what the teachers got at Hogwarts but she was used to it. She dried her wet cloak with a tap of her wand and finally turned to look at Snape.

"Are you still going to be a spy?" she asked.

"I promised Mrs. Potter that I would continue to be spy until the Order didn't need me anymore," said Snape bitterly. "It wasn't the Unbreakable Vow but I'm not about to break that promise."

Snape twitched. The Veritaserum had worn off. The look on Snape's face told McGonagall that he very much wished that it had worn off before his last statement.

"Then I'll see you back at headquarters tomorrow morning," said McGonagall.

McGonagall tossed Snape's wand back to him. He caught it.

"What about Potter?" he asked.

"I'll handle Harry," said McGonagall. "Is there anything else I need to know?"

Snape shook his head.

"No but the Dark Lord expressed his surprise when they made you headmistress," said Snape.

"He has every right to be surprised. He knew me when I-" McGonagall froze and stopped talking.

Snape folded his arms and smirked. The fact that McGonagall had caught him unawares after almost sixteen years of hiding his past felt slightly less significant when he had just wormed something out of _her_ without even using truth serum. McGonagall seemed embarrassed and angry.

"You knew the Dark Lord?" asked Snape, still smirking.

"We were at school together," snapped McGonagall, steadily turning scarlet. "I was two years ahead of him."

"May I ask why he was surprised that you're the new headmistress?"

McGonagall gave Snape an infuriated glare.

"I wasn't…exactly a model student," she finished lamely.

Snape looked sceptically at the stern transfiguration teacher. He expected her to have been an insufferable perfectionist like Hermione Granger when she was at school.

"Do you mean like the Weasley twins or do mean like Longbottom?" sneered Snape.

McGonagall, if possible, became angrier. She didn't expect this sort of questioning from Snape even if he had only just sobered up.

"You really think that I'm going to dignify that with an answer?" said McGonagall hotly.

Snape raised his hands up defensively.

"You saw fit to interrogate me," pointed out Snape. "I think it only polite that you tell me something."

"I thought you were a Death Eater," said McGonagall angrily. "You're just bloody well curious!"

"I'm a spy, remember?" said Snape, sneering again. "Curiosity is about the only thing Potter and I have in common."

McGonagall gave her stern look, making him feel like a seventh year student again, and headed towards the door. Snape did not expect McGonagall to answer his question but she came to a halt before she could turn the doorknob.

"I wasn't a harmless trouble maker or...academically challenged," she said. "I had a problem with authority and an issue with muggleborns."

Snape muttered something about the Weasley twins not being harmless but McGonagall ignored him.

"I also…" McGonagall began looking uncomfortable again, like she did when she was taking about Trelawney. "…had a _liking_ for the Dark Arts."

McGonagall stopped again, vaguely aware of the fact that Snape had gone straight from slightly curious and amused to absolutely horrified. He was staring at McGonagall as though she had just appeared from out of thin air. She looked away from Snape and suddenly blurted out the secret only Dumbledore had known. She spoke in a rush so that Snape was unsure if she had said something else altogether.

"I left Hogwarts before I had even finished my Newts and I joined the Knights of Walpurgis; Grindelwald's army that later reformed to become V-Voldemort's Death Eaters."


	2. SelfConfessed Mudblood

Self-confessed Mudblood

_14th April 1944_

The pub in Knockturn Alley was hardly the place for young witches but that was where Minerva chose to spend her time. In the English muggle world, there had been another air raid. A lot of the wizarding community tried to stop the bombs from falling but between Grindelwald's Hungarian Horntails flying with the German fighter planes (completely without their knowledge) and the vicious Knights of Walpurgis on the ground, London was no longer safe. The Knights thought that it was their duty to rid Europe, and maybe the world, of muggles. Minerva, unlike the rest of the wizarding world, didn't care what was happening.

Her appearance wasn't appropriate. Minerva's dark hair was cut to a little above her shoulders. She was wearing a rather short black skirt that was not suited to the weather or the standards of the wizading world of 1944. Many of the people around her were muttering darkly. Minerva didn't look like the bright twenty year old witch she was. She sat at the bar, swirling around a gillywater and glaring at the wizard's wireless that was playing the news of the war.

"_It's the 14th of April and the air raids have devastated London again. Wizards from all over Europe are being called to stand up against the Knights threatening our fellow non-magical folk and do their duty…"_

Minerva suddenly slammed her glass down and glared at the bartender.

"Turn that trash off!" shouted Minerva. "No one here gives a damn what the mudbloods do to themselves!"

The bartender cast a glance at the wizards a few tables behind Minerva who were intently listening to the wireless.

"We find it rather amusing actually," said a wizard from the back. "Grindelwald has been stirring up the muggle world from the inside. Bewitching their leaders, letting loose dragons on the battlefield, I think there were a few trolls in the English base a few nights ago…"

The wizards around him laughed loudly but Minerva did not.

"Mudbloods can kill each other very efficiently without our help," scoffed Minerva loudly. "That's why there was a World War One. What's he bothering for?"

There was silence in the bar. Minerva waited for someone to respond.

"Grindelwald is helping the wizarding community," said another wizard angrily to Minerva. "He's riding the world of those worthless beings."

There was a murmur of agreement from the wizards around Minerva. Someone shouted 'blood-traitor' from across the room. Minerva drew her wand.

"There'll be no-" began the bartender.

Minerva gave him a stern look that reminded him forcibly of his old charms teacher so the bartender faltered.

"And who were your parents?" asked a short, stocky wizard before her. "Were they muggles?"

There was another roar of laughter from everyone but Minerva didn't even flinch.

"I'm a mudblood," snapped Minerva. "Got a problem with it?"

The laughter died instantly. None expected her to answer honestly. The stocky wizard drew his wand and started towards Minerva.

"Yeah, I have a prob-"

Before the wizard could even finish his sentence, he was blasted into the table behind him. He knocked over several drinks and landed in a crumpled heap on the dirty floor. Minerva pointed her wand at the rest of the drinkers.

"Anyone else has a problem with me being a mudblood?" she shouted.

No one answered. No one said anything or even moved.

"I didn't think so," snarled Minerva.

The wizard scampered back to his seat. Minerva sat down slowly, still glaring at the lot of them. After that incident, no one was stupid enough to say anything to offend Minerva but someone was watching her with some interest. A clocked figure in a shadowy corner stood up and headed towards her. Minerva looked up at his face and instantly regretted it. His emerald green eyes were bloodshot and his yellow skin was clung to his bones. His cheeks were hollow and he had the look of someone who hadn't eaten for about a week. Minerva hid her shock and continued to play with her glass of gillywater.

"You're certainly a character…Miss?"

His voice was low and detached. He extended his long fingered hand to Minerva but she did not take it.

"May I be so bold to ask your name first?" she asked without even looking up.

The wizard lowered his hand but he was smiling. His smile would have made anyone other witch flinch but Minerva wasn't impressed. The people who came down to Knockturn Alley all dabbled in the Dark Arts so none of them were particularly nice looking. Even Minerva's previously brown hair had turned ebony because of her experimenting.

"Allow me to introduce myself and explain to you _why I bother,_" he said. "I am known as Grindelwald."

Minerva's stomach did a double back flip but she kept her face emotionless and her mind blank with Occlumency. If Grindelwald saw past her mast, he made no sign to show it. 

"Charmed," murmured Minerva sarcastically. "I'm Minerva."

"Is there a last name-"

"No," said Minerva sharply.

Grindelwald noticed the elevated hostility in Minerva's voice. He decided to change the topic.

"You must know of my efforts to rid Europe…maybe the world…of the lower human beings," he said carefully.

"You must know of my opinion of your efforts," she answered. "Completely pointless."

Grindelwald laughed. His laugh echoed of the walls and Minerva became aware of the fact that everyone was listening attentively.

"I have a mind to recruit you," said Grindelwald. "You will find that 'completely pointless' is a mild understatement."

"Not interested," Minerva snapped.

"I think I can persuade you,"

Minerva's hands dove into her cloak and her wand found Grindelwald's chest. Her dark eyes surveyed him without a trace of fear.

"And how do you think you'll accomplish that?" she snarled.

"By any means necessary," answered Grindelwald coldly.

Minerva laughed. Grindelwald was unaccustomed to being laughed at and his hand edged towards his wand.

"Since when did the great Dark One resort to calling Gryffindor, mudblood's to his side?" she sneered, her laugh still ringing in the Dark Wizard's ears.

It was Grindelwald's turn to laugh. Minerva pushed her wand a little harder and stepped a little closer.

"Can you honestly call you self a Gryffindor?" demanded Grindelwald. "You have no honour Minerva McGonagall. You may be reckless and daring but you're as sly and clever as any Slytherin. That much anyone can see."

Grindelwald tapped the wand that was pointed at him carelessly.

"Adolf Hitler may be the leader of the Nazis but he is not…Aryan," he sneered. "You may be a mudblood but I sense that your hatred of muggles runs deep."

"And like Hitler, being second in command doesn't suit me," said Minerva, lowering her wand and smirking.

Grindelwald smiled.

"Second in command to the most powerful wizard that Europe has seen in a century! Doesn't that sound better?"

"Sure of yourself, aren't you?" sneered Minerva.

Minerva became vaguely aware of the fact that the patrons in the pub were so quiet that you could barely hear their breathing. Grindelwald smiled widened. He leant in and whispered in her ear so that none of the drunk, eavesdropping wizards behind them could hear.

"I can show you things you've never seen before," said Grindelwald slowly, letting each word sink in. "I can teach you spells that are not even in the Restricted Section at Hogwarts Library."

Something flashed behind Minerva's eyes. Grindelwald knew that she had changed her mind.

"Teach me," said Minerva, "and I might consider your offer."

Triumph gleamed in Grindelwald's eyes. He extended his arm and Minerva took it. They left the pub. The bartender looked out from behind the counter. Minerva had forgotten to pay for her Gillywater but he was just glad to see the back of her.


	3. Minerva's Request

Minerva's Request

There was an isolated, unfinished section of the London Underground. There was hardly any light and the air was stale but at least one hundred witches and wizards were meeting there. Minerva was with them. Grindelwald had told her to be there and it was clear he was going to give some sort of speech. He was half an hour late. Minerva frowned and looked around. The crowd was getting restless. Minerva fought her way to the front. She noticed that the crowd was parting some distance from her. Grindelwald was walking through the crowd. Everyone began cheering loudly but he did not acknowledge them in any way. When he was finally before the crowd, they were screaming so loudly that Minerva's ears began to throb. Minerva waited for his commanding voice to boom over the screeches of the people but Grindelwald did not speak.

He waited.

Soon, the shouting stopped. Minerva could hear the breathing of the people around her. No one made a sound. The anticipation was almost unbearable. After a while, Minerva couldn't hear anyone breathing. Her attention was on Grindelwald and no one else. When Grindelwald finally started speaking, everyone hear him. He spoke so quietly, yet they caught every word her uttered.

"Why are you here?" he asked the silent crowd.

Nobody answered.

"Are you here for the glory? To have your name in the history books? To be feared?"

Grindelwald paused.

"Are you here for revenge?"

Minerva's eyes darkened. She may have told Grindelwald that she had become a knight only to learn Dark Magic but there was another reason. _Revenge…_

A few people around her shouted in agreement but her eyes did not leave Grindelwald. He waited for the crowd to be absolutely silent again.

"Revenge against the non-magical miscreants who are slowly but surely changing the wizarding world as we know it? Mudbloods who plot against each other and destroy us in the process?"

At this the crowd roared and this time, Minerva joined in. Blood pounded to her head. Hatred boiled up inside her, filling her up.

"Should we just wait for the mudbloods to destroy us from within? Or should we strike when they are weak? Should we annihilate this inferior race?"

Grindelwald was speaking loudly and passionately now. The crowd was alive with hatred.

"WE WILL TRIUMPH OVER THESE MUDBLOODS WE WILL TAKE BACK EUROPE FOR WIZARDS AND A NEW AGE WILL DAWN! THERE WILL BE NO SAFE HAVEN FOR THE MUDBLOODS!"

The crowd became a mob, acting with one mind, with only one purpose…and Minerva was a part of them.

"Death to the mudbloods!" they roared in unison. "Death to the blood traitors!"

Grindelwald raised his hands over them. His voice filled every inch of the meeting place. Everyone there heard him and believed his words.

"Knights of Walpurgis! Now is the time to act! Now is the time to purge Europe of filth! Together we will be unstoppable!"

"Impressive," said Minerva. "You certainly know how to stir up a crowd."

Grindelwald smirked and offered her a seat next to him.

"I look forward to celebrating in the open air instead of the London Underground," he said.

Minerva took the seat offered and looked at the celebrating Knights. It wasn't much of a celebration. There were a few caskets of cheep firewhiskey but the thing that made Minerva smile triumphantly was the Knights themselves. Every face was confident of their victory. No one was uncertain. Minerva looked away from them and turned to Grindelwald.

"You promised to teach me Dark Magic," she said. "Not that you little talk wasn't awe inspiring but, to be quite frank, I've been here for hours and I haven't learnt a thing."

"All in good time, my dear," said Grindelwald. "Now is the time for celebration."

"Well, we haven't won any battles yet," smirked Minerva.

Grindelwald was becoming increasingly fond of Minerva. She wasn't afraid of him… yet…and she wasn't afraid of voicing her opinions. Grindelwald could see she wasn't going to do anything for him until he did what she asked.

"What curse do you wish to know first?" he asked.

Minerva pretended to think about it. She had already made up her mind.

"The Unforgivable Curses," she said with a hint of eagerness in her voice.

Grindelwald was uncharacteristically surprised. Many Knights dreaded to use Unforgivable Curses and here was a young witch, who had only just joined their ranks, actually asking him to teach her. She wasn't even technically asking him to teach her. It wasn't a request.

"Unforgivable Curses are not for one such as you," he answered.

Grindelwald suddenly became aware of something, which felt suspiciously like Minerva's wand, jabbing him painfully in the side.

"Please?" said Minerva with a deceptively sweet smile.

Grindelwald raise his eyebrows at her but he was not angry. Far from it actually.

"On reflection…I may have been mistaken," he said with a grin.

Minerva pocketed her wand, still smiling.

"Shall we start?"

Grindelwald took her to a small house just outside Knockturn Alley. It was more of a shack. Light filtered into the house through weather beaten walls. From what Minerva could see, there was only a fireplace and an armchair. A spider was busily weaving a web in the corner.

"Let's start with my favourite, shall we?" said Grindelwald.

Minerva had a shrewd feeling which one of the curse would be the Dark Wizard's favourite and she was perfectly right. A small smile played across her lips.

"Is it the cruciatus curse?" she asked.

Grindelwald cast a bemused glance at Minerva.

"You know me already," said Grindelwald.

Minerva sat in the armchair and crossed her legs.

"So…how is it done?"

Grindelwald took out his wand and caressed it with his fingers. He spoke as he did at his rally…quietly and as though a recalling fond memory.

"You've got to put yourself into them," whispered Grindelwald. "You have to want to bring a man to his lowest point... to cause pain."

Minerva was no longer smiling. Her eyes were ablaze.

"That," she said, as quietly as Grindelwald, "will not be a problem for me."

Grindelwald observed Minerva with increased interest for a few more moments. When he spoke again his manner was detached and business-like.

"There is only one way to learn the cruciatus curse properly," he said. "You have to experience them and feel the anger on the other side of the wand."

A flash of fear showed in Minerva's face for the briefest of moments but then she was her old self again. She stood up and lifted her chin high.

"I'm ready."

Quick as a flash, Grindelwald pointed his wand as her.

"Crucio!" he roared.

Minerva screamed. It hurt so badly that she almost begged Grindelwald to stop. Suddenly it was over. Grindelwald helped Minerva to her feet even though she didn't remember falling down. She shook her head and looked up at Grindelwald.

"Are you mad at me Minerva?" asked Grindelwald.

Minerva dusted her sleeves and drew her wand.

"No," she said truthfully, "but now it's my turn."


	4. The First Time

Author's Note: OOC is about to become a mild understatement. This chapter will freak you out. Where do I come up with this stuff!?! I'm not going to torture you...the next update will be soon.

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The First Time

_"Has Mrs. Lestrange ever told you what is required to cast the cruciatus curse?" asked the old Headmistress quietly. _

Snape had never really been this unnerved before, including the time when he first saw the Dark Lord, but he managed to keep his face blank. McGonagall was avoiding his glance as she spoke but Snape couldn't blame her.

"Yes," he said, managing to keep his voice under control. "I believe she said it was a desire to cause pain."

"She's half right," said McGonagall. "It also requires anger…and a fair amount of it."

McGonagall put her hand to her head.

"How much do you regret serving Lord Voldemort?"

Snape fought the urge to wince upon hearing his 'master's' name.

"Probably as much as you regret serving Grindelwald," he answered.

McGonagall looked at him for the first time since she started her story. She, like Snape, was trying to keep her face impassive but Snape saw a shadow of regret in her eyes that was far greater than his own. Whatever McGonagall had done, Snape could tell that she regretted it with every fibre of her being.

"Oh, I doubt that very much indeed," she said.

Minerva left Grindelwald in the little shack. He watched her as she headed out into the wizarding world. Grindelwald was curious as to what she would do first. He smiled at the thought of the muggle that would stray unknowing into her path. This was 'her turn' to have a little fun but when she was done, the real work would begin. Grindelwald imagined his new recruit would inflict a little more damage onto the battling European muggles than a Dragon in the air-raids or a Troll fighting the soldiers.

The people in the streets of Knockturn Alley parted for Minerva as she headed to Diagon Alley. They knew who she was; a Knight of Walpurgis. They had all seen Minerva at Grindelwald's side at the rally and it was clear that she was his favourite. There were rumours about her flying about, spreading like wildfire. The fact that Minerva was a mudblood was no longer important because she was going to turn the tables of the war. Minerva felt herself smile when she saw the look of awe on their faces. She hadn't felt this alive in years. Minerva had the power to send any one of them to their knees in pain…and she liked it.

Unlike the people in Knockturn Alley, those in Diagon Alley barely noticed Minerva. They were going on about their lives, oblivious to the fact that this woman was a Dark Witch and she was going to do something nothing short of evil. Minerva headed straight for the muggle world. She finally stopped at the sealed brick wall that stops the muggles entering Diagon Alley. She hesitated for a moment before she drew her wand and prepared to tap the first brick to open the gateway. Before she had finished, a noise behind her made her turn around quickly.

Sitting on one of the crates near the wall was a bird Minerva had only seen in books. It was the size of a swan and its feathers were crimson and gold. Minerva raised her eyebrows when she realised what it was; a phoenix. It outstretched its talon and held within it was a neatly rolled up piece of parchment. Minerva was not usually cautious but she hesitated when she took the note from the bird. It was written in green ink and the beautiful, loopy handwriting was oddly familiar.

_Meet me in the Hog's Head as soon as possible. Tell no one. Give the barman your name and he will direct you to the correct room. _

"What is this?" Minerva snapped at phoenix, not really expecting it to respond.

The phoenix ruffled its feathers as though shrugging. Minerva felt her curiosity outweigh her anger and hatred. Minerva cast a glance at the brick wall before apparating to Hogsmead and walking towards the Hog's Head.

Minerva walked into the grubby bar. It was certainly a lot cleaner than the one in Knockturn Alley but that wasn't saying much. She strode up to the rather grumpy looking bartender who was busily wiping mugs with the filthiest rag Minerva had ever seen.

"There's someone to see me here," said Minerva.

"What's your name?" said the bartender gruffly.

"Minerva," she answered.

"Minerva what?"

Minerva drew her wand and the bartender looked rather amused, as though something finally interesting was happening to him. Minerva on the other hand, looked furious.

"None of your business!" she snarled.

The bartender gave her a bemused look that told Minerva that he was not intimidated and that he didn't care if she met this mystery person or not. Minerva lowered her wand, still looking daggers at the bartender.

"Minerva McGonagall, okay?" she snapped.

"McGonagall? Wasn't there something in the muggle papers about a muggle who-"

Minerva's wand was pointed at the bartender's face again.

"Don't say it!" she whispered dangerously.

The bartender shrugged.

"Room eleven on your left," he muttered. "Let yourself in."

Minerva lowered her wand for the second time but she did not put it away. There was something very odd about this entire thing. She grimaced.

_I could be out in the muggle world by now…_

But did she really want to use the cruciatus curse on someone?

Minerva had been thinking so intently that she didn't even realise that she was at room eleven. She knocked at the door but no one answered. Minerva opened the door and walked inside. It was seemingly empty. Groaning in frustration, she turned to walk out of the room only to find that it had locked behind her.

"Alohomora!" she shouted.

Nothing. The door refused to budge.

"Damn it!" she snarled, banging her fist on the door.

She spun around with the intention of climbing out the window and found herself face to face with a man she hadn't seen since she had left Hogwarts. He wore bright purple robes and he had auburn hair. His beard and hair had grown just past his shoulders. He was Albus Dumbledore.

"You!" snarled Minerva, drawing her wand.

Dumbledore raised his hands defensively.

"Please sit down, Minerva," said Dumbledore, gesturing towards a seat. "I mean you no ill will."

Minerva didn't sit down, nor did she appreciate being locked in a room with a man she despised.

"What do want from me?" shouted Minerva.

"I merely want to help you," said Dumbledore softly. "If you accept my help is up to you."

Minerva strode up to Dumbledore and pointed her wand at his face. He made no attempt to stop her. He didn't say a word but his twinkling blue eyes gazed at Minerva sadly.

"I don't need anyone's help," she whispered, "least of all from a mudblood loving fool like you."

"Minerva, I know you joined the Knights of Walpurgis-"

"And you care…why exactly?" sneered Minerva.

"Your parents were muggles-"

"Shut up!" shouted Minerva, her wand hand shaking.

There was something different about her voice this time. There was angry in it…but there was a hint of pain as well. It was something that she had managed to keep hidden for a very long time under a mask of hatred. Dumbledore's hand twitched as though he was about to put a comforting hand on Minerva's shoulder but suddenly thought better of it.

"Minerva, what happened to them?" asked Dumbledore quietly.

Minerva slowly lowered her wand but the anger did not leave her face.

"My father started with all the 'it's my duty' bull and signed up for the war immediately," snarled Minerva. "I wasn't actually surprised when I heard he died. After that my mother said she wanted me to leave Hogwarts and go help her out at home. The stupid old woman was very supportive of the war."

"Grindelwald is fuelling this war," said Dumbledore. "The only reason the war is still going is-"

"The war was started by mudbloods!" snapped Minerva. "Grindelwald's just finishing what they started!"

Dumbledore's eyes darkened.

"Please do not use that word in front of me," said Dumbledore somewhat coldly.

Minerva's features formed a rather ugly sneer.

"Let me tell you something about those mud…sorry, what do you call them?" said Minerva mockingly. "Oh right…_muggles_. They have no issue at all with murdering each other. In fact, an old widow is practically a target."

Minerva tossed her wand and caught it as though what she was talking about didn't cause her great pain.

"It's almost funny," said Minerva, unable to keep her voice from shaking that much. "Mother had so much faith in this hell hole of a country. After all that she wasn't even killed by the opposite side. A muggle with a knife wanted her purse and she wouldn't give it. The excuse for a human being left her in a little alley to bleed to death and took twenty pounds from her purse. My mother's life was worth twenty-pounds."

Minerva tried to force another laugh but it got caught in her throat.

"Now, can you still tell me that those spineless monsters are worth saving?"

Dumbledore closed his eyes for a moment then turned to look at Minerva again. His eyes were full of concern.

"Minerva, non-magical folk are not all like that," he said.

"What do you know!" shouted Minerva. "You've never been into the muggle world!"

"At least think about what I have said," said Dumbledore.

Minerva returned his look of concern with one of hatred.

"Let me out," she whispered venomously.

Dumbledore sighed and pointed his wand at the door. It swung open effortlessly. Minerva strode towards it but stopped before she had left the door. Suddenly she spun around and pointed her wand at Dumbledore.

"Crucio!" shouted Minerva.

Dumbledore wasn't quick enough to block the curse. He crumbled to the ground, his face contorted in pain. His wand fell from his hand and Minerva kicked it away. As Dumbledore lay gasping on the ground, Minerva leant towards him.

"You've chosen the wrong side, Dumbledore," she whispered. "Blood-traitors like you won't last very long."

Minerva vanished without another word, leaving the Professor alone in the little room.

_McGonagall was actually crying now. She dabbed her eyes furiously with her tartan edged handkerchief. Snape was trying very hard to process what McGonagall was saying and failing. He shook his head in disbelief. _

"You're lying," he said flatly. "You couldn't possibly…no…"

McGonagall sniffed loudly.

"I never thought he'd actually forgive me," she said shakily. "But he did…"


	5. Mengele

Author's Note: Josef Mengele was a **real man** who committed countless atrocities in the Death Camp, Auschwitz. He was **not** a wizard in real life (_obviously_) and his part in this story is entirely fiction.

**The following chapter contains material that may be sensitive to some people, especially Holocaust survivors and their families.** No offence is intended.

Just to let you know (in case you didn't), SS stands for Schutzstaffel. Schutzstaffel is German for Protective Squadron. They were the Nazis' secret service.

Oh and by the way, this is **NOT** ADMM. There is exactly zilch romance in this fic.

* * *

Mengele

_After a few moments, Professor McGonagall had calmed down but her mouth was thinner than Snape had ever seen it and her beady eyes were a little red. Snape was still struggling to believe what she was saying. No matter how hard he tried, he could not imagine her using an Unforgivable Curse on Albus Dumbledore. It seemed clear to him that of all the members of the Order of the Phoenix, she was the most loyal to Dumbledore. The idea that she had once fought against him was too horribly wrong._

_"Well…" said McGonagall a little gruffly. "After that things got worse."_

_Snape didn't think he could handle any more nasty surprises._

_"Worse?" he repeated in disbelief. "Exactly how can it get i worse ?"_

_McGonagall's eyes were fixed on the corner of the room. The looked rather hazy as though she was recalling another memory from long ago._

_"When the Nazis become involved with magic it always gets worse."_

_Late July, 1944_

A great cheer rang though the London Underground once more. Grindelwald raised his hands in welcome and the Knights of Walpurgis roared in response.

"Success my friends!" he cried. "The ministry is in shambles! Now no one can stop us!"

Another triumphant cheer came from the mindless mob. Grindelwald produced a copy of the Daily Prophet and waved it in front of them. There was really no need since they had all read the articles he was thinking about several times. The heading **ATTACK ON THE MINISTRY** was bold and striking on the front page. Pictures of a once grand building covered the page. The Ministry now lay in ruins. Injured witches and wizards were everywhere. It could only be described as chaos.

"They fear us now!" shouted Grindelwald. "Never has such fear been in their hearts! Our path to the mudbloods is clear…all thanks to Minerva!"

With a venomous sneer on her face, Minerva walked onto the crude, wooden platform Grindelwald was standing on and stood beside him. Grindelwald took her hand and lifted it up high. The mob screamed their approval.

"All the Knights fought with cunning and ruthlessness…but none more so than Minerva!"

Minerva felt a thrill as the crowd bellowed her name. It echoed of the walls and rang back to her. There were a few people in the mob who looked incredibly jealous but she did not care. She felt alive.

"She battled several Aurors and had them crawling on the ground before her! Victory is in our grasps once more!"

Minerva looked at the cheering crowd. One man stood out more than the others. He was smiling at her, clapping slowly and carefully as though enjoying each clap. He looked too neat and orderly to be part of the unruly mob. His dark hair was slicked back and not one hair was out of place. He wore the uniform of an SS officer and it was neatly pressed. He was very handsome, a vision of perfect, yet there was something chilling about him. Minerva felt an unexplainable rush of dislike towards him. Minerva did not know why but all she knew was that she hated everything about him from his black, shinny boots to his mahogany wand that he held like a riding crop. Minerva always thought that divination was a loud of rubbish but something was telling her that she would meet this mysterious SS officer again.

_30th of July, 1944 _

Knockturn Alley was not the best place to go during summer. The sunlight seemed to be trapped in by the excessive amount of dirt and it was unbearably hot. If you had the good fortune to be in Knockturn Alley when it rains during summer, the entire place looks, feels and smells like a bog. The man Grindelwald and Minerva were planning to meet was in no situation to be picky.

The barman from the pub in Knockturn Alley cursed loudly and ducked as his least favourite customers entered his pub. Minerva and Grindelwald walked up to a man who was sitting calmly at one of the dirty tables.

"If it isn't the good doctor," sneered Grindelwald as he took a seat next to a man Minerva instantly recognised as the SS officer who had been at the rally. "Welcome to England Josef!"

Josef the SS officer smiled and shook Grindelwald's hand. Minerva could bring herself to trust him even a little.

"_Guten Tag_ Grindelwald," said Josef with a very heavy German accent. "It has been too long."

Josef caught sight of Minerva. She conjured a seat next to Grindelwald. When she sat down his smile, which was a little too perfect, widened.

"This must be the infamous Minerva Mc-"

"Utter another syllable and you will regret it," snarled Minerva.

Josef sat there, completely shocked, for a moment. After a few moments he roared with laughter. It was a loud, booming laugh that somehow made him seem even more sinister. The other drinks were all too drunk to even look at Josef as he laughed. Minerva's expression did not soften.

"I see why you have chosen this girl as your second in command," he laughed. "She's as feisty as an alley cat."

Minerva turned pale with anger. She was liking this…Josef less and less by the minute.

"Girl?" she hissed angrily. "Why you-"

Grindelwald put his hand out to stop Minerva. She did not finish who she was going to say but she continued to give Josef the death stare. He gathered that she would have used some very uncivilised language.

"You must forgive Josef for his outspokenness Minerva," said Grindelwald. "There are very few witches like you in Germany…or anywhere in Europe for that matter."

Minerva scowled and was not at all soothed by the flattery. Josef gave Minerva an apologetic look.

"Forgive me Minerva," he said as silkily as possible with a thick German accent. "Allow me to introduce myself properly. I am Doctor Josef Mengele."

Very reluctantly, Minerva shook his hand. Mengele turned to Grindelwald again, his perfect smile still playing about his face.

"Is Auschwitz still running well?" asked Grindelwald.

At the mention of Auschwitz, there was a very drastic change in the SS officer. His pleasant smile turned quite nasty and there was a ravenous look in his eyes. It was as if he could barely contain his excitement.

"Perfect," he said as though talking about a beloved child or favourite pet. "It is almost beautiful to watch."

Minerva suddenly felt very unnerved, She did not know what Mengele loved to watch but she was very sure it was something that she would not like at all.

"Watch what?" she asked a little too loudly.

If Mengele noticed Minerva's discomfort, he made no sign to shove it. He was in a trance; lost in fond memories.

"There is nothing quite like watching one race exterminate another. The Aryans will conquer all…then we will conquer them."

"There's too many of them," said Minerva sharply. "We just need to stop them from destroying us! We'll let them know we won't be pushed around."

Mengele shook his head.

"One thing I have learned in Auschwitz," said Mengele. "You cannot show these…mudbloods anything. They are inferior…like animals. They will overrun us and make us squirm beneath them unless we take the right course of action. There is only one solution…the Final Solution."

Minerva knew exactly what the Final Solution was. It was the systematic destruction of all those the Nazi Party saw as unfit to live. The same look that had formed on Mengele's face also formed on Grindelwald's.

"Imagine their surprise when we turn their own idea against them," he sneered.

"I almost admire the Nazis," said Mengele. "The idea is quite ingenious…and very beneficial."

Minerva's face was now a lot paler than before.

"Exactly how is your work beneficial?" she asked acidly.

Grindelwald frowned at her but Minerva was too angry to notice. Mengele ignored the hostility in her tone and smile.

"Everyday my work teaches me something new," he said. "Better ways to put a stop to the mudbloods."

Mengele leaned across the table towards Minerva. If she had not been a very stubborn witch she may have backed away.

"I'm a doctor, you see," he said softly. "Those mudbloods provide excellent… ah…volunteers for my research."

"Volunteers?" said Minerva quietly.

Mengele shrugged.

"Reluctant volunteers," admitted Mengele. "I like to research the oddities of their race."

Minerva's eyes bored into Mengele's with such intensity that Grindelwald was mildly surprise that he did not draw back.

"What are these…experiments?" whispered Minerva.

Mengele gave Minerva another one of his sinister smiles.

"Oh just this and that," he said. "I have to admit there is very little significance to some of the experiments. Some are just to satisfy my own curiosity… and some are just for my enjoyment. The methods of my colleges are quite original but nothing really does the trick better than a good cruciatus curse."

Minerva said nothing more but she continued to glower at Mengele. He took a sip of gillywater from his glass and continued.

"Grindelwald tells me that you are fond of that charming little curse."

For a moment, Minerva was quite disarmed but she quickly regained her icy composure and forced herself to speak.

"I can cast the curse well enough," she said coldly.

Mengele's smile widened.

"You have performed the curse on someone."

"Of course I have!" snarled Minerva.

"Then you must come and work with me in Poland," said Mengele firmly.

There was silence at the table but Minerva broke it after a few moments.

"No!" she said loudly.

The smile on Mengele's face vanished. It was replaced by a very ugly look that did not suit him at all. Grindelwald was the first to speak again and Minerva could tell that he was really not happy.

"Why?" he asked in a tone that he had never used with Minerva.

Minerva pursed her lips. She did not want to say that she found the entire idea of Auschwitz repulsive. Resorting to muggle ideal like "The Final Solution" was not something she had ever planned to do.

"I do not wish to leave England," she said finally. "There is still so much to be done here."

Mengele leaned back into his seating looking quite sour.

"Is that all?" he snapped.

Minerva smirked at the cross SS officer before her.

"That and the fact that I really don't trust you, _Doctor_," she sneered.

Mengele's lips formed a very ugly snarl.

"I'm sorry to hear that," he glowered. "I think it is time for me to return to Poland. If you would excuse us, _Minerva_?"

Not at all sorry to leave, Minerva stormed out of the pub and left Grindelwald and Mengele alone. Mengele finished the rest of his gillywater in one gulp.

"To business," said Grindelwald. "You came for another reason besides recruiting Minerva, I presume?"

Mengele nodded.

"I am one of the only wizards fighting for my cause in Germany," he said. "We're a scarce few. It grieve me to say this but most of them are blood traitors."

A snarl formed on Grindelwald's face.

"Characters like Albus Dumbledore?" he said acidly. "That insufferable man…"

Mengele frowned

"He is that English man, no?" he asked. "The one with a long beard and ridiculously coloured robes?"

Grindelwald nodded gruffly.

"You were saying, Josef?"

"Yes…you have of course heard of the Polish Home Army?"

"Muggles and Mudbloods are they not?"

"Thankfully not so many muggles. They are uprising. We need your assistance to…what is the word in your tongue? Ah… _squash_ them."

Grindelwald laughed loudly.

"It will be our pleasure," he said.

"I doubt the delightful Miss Minerva wishes to participate."

"She will come," said Grindelwald loudly.

Mengele didn't notice that Grindelwald was getting angrier and continued recklessly.

"She seems to have the wrong ideals. To…_squash_… this uprising many Poles will die and Minerva seems to want to slap the on the wrist and send them on their way. I worry about her loyalty…"

Mengele trailed off after notice the look on Grindelwald's face.

"You forget, Josef, that you are questioning my second in command," he said in a low and dangerous whisper. "You may be God in Auschwitz but here you are nothing."

Mengele flinched. He was not a powerful wizard but an ambitious one. Ambition got one nowhere with Grindelwald and neither did forgetting your place. Grindelwald gave you enough rope to hang yourself with but you did not want to push him over the edge.

"Forgive me, that was uncalled for," mumbled the now very nervous SS officer. "I merely meant that she seemed a little uncertain."

Grindelwald nodded. This was his way of letting Mengele know that he could keep talking without getting into any serious trouble. Mengele let out an involuntary sigh of relief.

"She has great potential," he said, "but you need to show her… the ways of the world."

"She hasn't performed the last curse," said Grindelwald quietly.

Mengele frowned.

"The last curse?"

"The last _Unforgivable_ Curse."

Mengele smile. His nervousness had quite evaporated now.

"My personal favourite…Sometimes I have been reduced to using crude muggle weapons but nothing is more refined than the killing curse."

Mengele got to his feet.

"If she cast that curse you will know for sure if she is ready to command your armies," said Mengele. "I really must go now."

Grindelwald also got to his feet.

"So soon?"

Mengele shrugged again.

"Is it unwise for me to linger in England especially in my present attire," said Mengele, gesturing towards his SS uniform. "Besides, I have a morning appointment with a delightful set of twins and Herta…my colleague…get quite suspicious when I'm not on time."


	6. Dumbledore's Plan

**Dumbledore's Plan**

_1st of August, 1944_

Albus Dumbledore walked towards the staff room, but stopped before he could open the door. He winced with pain and raised a hand to his chest. After a few moments, Dumbledore took a deep breath and opened the door, managing to smile as he entered.

"Good morning Headmaster," said Dumbledore to the wizard in the red armchair.

The usually cheerful Headmaster Dippet grunted and gave Dumbledore a nod. Dumbledore looked at the gray hair wizard over his half-moon spectacles.

"Is something the matter Armando?" asked Dumbledore gently.

Dippet nodded and buried his face in his hands.

"Galatea is retiring," he muttered, "and I am short a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

Dumbledore gave Dippet a sympathetic look. Good teachers were hard to find.

"Professor Merrythought has been here for quite a while," he said. "In fact, I think that she even taught me at some point."

Dumbledore sat down in an armchair opposite Dippet but was unable to hide another wince as he did so. Dippet raised his head from his hands and looked at Dumbledore in alarm.

"Are you alright Albus?" asked a very worried Dippet. "Please don't retire…I don't think I can handle it."

Dumbledore shook his head

"This is merely the result of one of my wanderings going a little foul…nothing serious," he said lightly. "I have no intention of retiring. I am not nearly as elderly as Galatea yet."

When Dippet was sure Dumbledore was all right, he looked over at an old, moth-eaten, green armchair in the corner of the staff with regret. The chair was just as old as its owner and the staff room seemed bare and boring without Professor Merrythought's quirky voice bouncing around the walls. Dippet hauled himself out of his own chair and started to pace around the staff room.

"I know she's not getting any younger," said Dippet exasperatedly. "But for Merlin's sake…term is going to start soon and I don't have a replacement!"

Dumbledore stroked his beard and frowned thoughtfully.

"I think I can help you-"

Dippet stopped pacing abruptly and starred at Dumbledore in alarm.

"Not your brother again!" cried Dippet before he could stop himself.

Dippet mumbled something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like the word 'goat'. Dumbledore winced again but this time at the memory of when his brother took the position of substitute teacher for a day.

"Ah…I did not have Aberforth in mind," said Dumbledore with a small grimace. "I do not believe he took to teaching very well."

Dippet continued pacing and sighed with relief.

"Who do you have in mind?"

Dippet's question was met by silence. He frowned at Dumbledore. He was fidgeting his out-putter. Dumbledore seemed uncharacteristically uncertain…and a little _guilty?_

"Albus?" he said a little louder. "Who do you have in mind?"

Dumbledore took a deep breath before he looked up and spoke to Dippet.

"I am not certain," said Dumbledore hesitantly, "but I think I have found a suitable replacement. Do you remember Miss Minerva McGonagall… one of the Gryffindor prefects?"

Dippet stopped again and his jaw dropped. Judging by the look on his face he remembered Minerva McGonagall very clearly.

"A _dropout_?" he cried incredulously. "Albus, you can't be serious!"

"She's a very capable witch," said Dumbledore with a sigh.

Dippet made a small noise in his throat and ran his finger's through his graying hair.

"Albus, she is only a year older than the seventh years," he said whilst shaking his head. "I do not think the boys will be paying much attention if…well…"

Dippet trailed off and gave Dumbledore a meaningful look. Dumbledore nodded his head in agreement.

"I will take the seventh classes if that is what you're concerned about," he said.

Dippet bit his lip as though struggling to come up with a reason not to hire Minerva. After at least a minute, he looked up at Dumbledore in resignation. There was simply no other choice.

"When can she start?" he said lamely.

Dumbledore looked away from Dippet, uncertainty etched on his features once more. It made Dippet very nervous when he did this. Dumbledore had always been firm and confident in his decisions and Dumbledore was Dippet's right-hand man. If he was unsure about something…then Dippet was in trouble.

"I am yet to…" Dumbledore swallowed and his hand went to his chest again. "…convince her to take the post."

Dippet slumped into his chair and rubbed his temples with his hands.

"I do hope you can convince her in time Albus…" muttered Dippet.

When Dippet looked at Dumbledore again he saw something other than uncertainly in the Transfiguration teacher's face. For the first time, Dippet realized that there was no twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes and that Dumbledore had not sincerely smiled in weeks. Dippet had never seen Dumbledore this unhappy in years.

"So do I," said Dumbledore gravely. "So do I."

_McGonagall had spent hours talking and her voice was a little hoarse. The candle that hovered above their heads was barely a stub and was producing only a very faint light. McGonagall produced an orb of light from her wand and now could see Snape very clearly. He seemed to have gotten over his initial shock and was frowning at her._

"Dumbledore was still injured from your curse at the start of the uprising?" he asked, his frown deepening.

McGonagall nodded, avoiding Snape's eyes.

"He still has…I mean…He still had the scar," whispered McGonagall.

Snape raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"It takes an exceptionally powerful cruciatus curse to leave a scar," said Snape as he gave McGonagall a very calculating look.

McGonagall grimaced.

"Surely there are Death Eaters who are more than able?" she asked coldly. 

Snape shook his head.

"None that I know of," said Snape. "I was under the impression that only the Dark Lord could make the curse that powerful."

McGonagall let out a small and very forced laugh. Snape recognized it as the same laugh he had given Dumbledore when the headmaster had praised him for the work one of his more sinister potions.

"Then I guess I have a knack for dark magic," said McGonagall. "Grindelwald certainly thought so."


End file.
